


sometimes the world seems against you [the journey may leave a scar]

by aeriamamaduck



Series: The Next Level of Life and Love [9]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Apologies, Arguing, Badass Katsuki Yuuri, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Communication, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingerfucking, Insomnia, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Penetrative Sex, Panic Attacks, RIP Yuuri's glasses, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Top Victor Nikiforov, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11099454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: A sleepless night and awful morning lead to Yuuri losing his temper. To make things worse he doesn't have his apartment keys, so all he can do is wait and hope that he hasn't ruined everything beyond repair.But things just keep getting worse.6/20/17 - CHAPTER 1 ILLUSTRATION + SECOND CHAPTER ADDED AND RATING CHANGE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a very vivid dream about Yuuri and Victor arguing in the rink and it led to me dropping everything to write THIS in one night.

It was 10:50 a.m and it was starting to look like the beginning of a terrible day.

No, scratch that. It was pretty obvious that Yuuri was going to have a bad day when he found himself lying awake at 3:25 a.m., tired and frustrated as his brain stubbornly refused to shut up and kept on working merrily as if it were noon. 

His neck and shoulders ached something terrible from trying to find a comfortable position, and staying still as much as he could to keep from waking a sleeping Victor up. Yuuri envied the man's restful sleep, and tried to keep from huffing so much as he tossed and turned.

It went on until Yuuri, feeling hot and uncomfortable, pulled his shirt off and tossed his pillows aside to lay on the mattress itself, trying to salvage his rest and give his neck some form of relief, until his and Victor's cell phones started playing their respective alarms, the cheeriest and loudest sounds that only served to make Yuuri groan in utter disappointment.

Yuuri kept trying to shrug it off, well-aware that he'd had restless nights before, and dragged himself along beside a way-too chipper and well-rested Victor as they went on their morning run with Makkachin after Yuuri managed to force some breakfast down his throat, and thanked the heavens for the coffee Victor happily poured into his mug.

At least it would keep his eyes open for a few hours and keep Victor from noticing he hadn't slept a wink. Still, there was no beating the sleepiness that dragged at his limbs, making him sloppy on the ice at best. A headache had settled right in the middle of his skull, and the loud noises of the rink made it and the soreness in his neck and shoulders a thousand times worse.

Every voice was jarring, and Victor's was like a car alarm in its persistence as he shouted instructions, repeating them as Yuuri painstakingly made his way across the ice as if he hadn't just taken silver in Barcelona, his confidence gone the same way as his energy.

Caffeine was only taking him so far, and it wasn't helping his rising irritation either. 

If anyone asked Victor if Yuuri was a perfect student, Yuuri doubted Victor would say he was. There were times Yuuri was so unbelievably stubborn, so set on proving himself, that he went against his coach's advice, especially when it came to jumps.

He could sense Victor's irritated confusion like a hammer at the back of his head as he traversed the rink, sluggishly managing to avoid Yurio's swift and energetic form as he skated past. Yuuri was very purposely avoiding Victor's gaze, too frustrated and anxious to see his failures reflected in his coach's eyes.

It was his fault for not sleeping. Victor's fault for being so goddamn rested and full of energy. Yurio for skating _near_ Yuuri when he was feeling so fucking murderous and achy and  _holy shit why couldn't today have been his day off? He just wanted a hot shower and a second chance with his comfy bed._

"Pace yourself, Yuuri! Your head's not on the ice today," he heard Victor call, a harsh bite in his voice that nearly made Yuuri wince. 

Something in him decided enough was enough then and there, finished with Victor's relentless criticism and taking things slowly. He didn't have the luxury to take things slow, his heart rate starting to speed up as he thought of how devastating any setback could be at this point. He was  _good_ and he'd keep getting  _better_ , lack of sleep be damned.

He couldn't keep being careful.

Yuuri steadily followed his step sequence, ignoring the voice of reason that told him not to try it, he was too tired and his body was heavy with lack of sleep and he wasn't thinking clearly. No, he wanted to throw Victor's criticism back in his perfect face, and make him realize that Yuuri wasn't taking two steps back.

It was only when Yuuri was on the second flip that reason kicked in and he listened to that little voice shout,  _Now you fucked up!_

His blade skidded off the ice and Yuuri didn't try to catch it further, mind screaming  _don't get hurt, mind your legs, land and avoid fracture, just land in one piece._

Air left him in a heavy, sharp huff as he landed on his back, pain spreading like a swift blaze across the back of his head far worse than the mild ache of restlessness.

 _"Yuuri!"_ he heard Victor call, panic in his voice. Yuuri blinked up at the rink ceiling, slowly moving each of his limbs and breathing out in shaky relief as they all move the way they're supposed to, even the foot he'd tried landing on. He heard someone skid to a stop beside him and looked up at Yurio's annoyed face, the teen taking a brief look at him and saying, "Shit, you looked off all morning, now it's even worse."

It's not the venomous words he'd growled at Yuuri in a bathroom stall a hundred years ago, but the words still manage to sting. Yuuri, his anger at existence increasing, managed a brief glare at the boy before sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. He wasn't dizzy, but he didn't doubt his head would hurt in the coming hours. His hand came away free of blood, so at least there was that.

Victor came to a stop beside him and gave him a once-over with his worried gaze as Yurio skated away back to Yakov, but it did nothing to calm Yuuri as he fought down the urge to punch a hole through the ice in fury. Victor laid a hand on his shoulder and offered the other to help him up, asking in a soft, concerned tone, "Are you alright? Do you think you can stand?"

It's almost automatic how Yuuri effortlessly shrugged off Victor's hand and pushed himself up, brushing off the seat of his pants and flushed with embarrassment at his blunder. He wasn't a stranger to falling, but this time it was just too much, and he felt Victor's worry like an anvil on his shoulders. "I'm okay. I can keep going."

"No," Victor said, hand grasping Yuuri's elbow and stopping him from skating away. Decisiveness had replaced the worry in his eyes and he added, "You should stop for today, Yuuri. You're exhausted, and that's not doing you any good." 

Yuuri stared at him in disbelief, pulling away and insisting with a frown, "Victor, I'm  _not_ stopping! Yeah, I'm a little tired, but-"

"Did you even sleep at all last night?"

Yuuri cursed himself for the guilty flush that colored his face, and clenched his fists at Victor's heavy sigh. "Of course you didn't. I should've seen it sooner." There's no nonsense in his coach's voice when he goes on with, "Yuuri, you know you can't push yourself like that, _detka_. You could've seriously injured yourself out there with that jump!"

"But I didn't," Yuuri replied, silencing the reasonable part of him that whispered that Victor was right. "I'm not hurt and I'm not dizzy. I can keep skating!" He didn't want to admit Victor was right and let him send him home, wasting an entire day of training.

"Not today," Victor said, frowning back at him and crossing his arms, and Yuuri knew there was no winning against Victor when he suddenly became as unbending as an oak, the picture of the forbidding coach no one ever thought Victor Nikiforov could be. "You're done today, Yuuri, and that's final."

Yuuri stared back at him, not wanting to believe that Victor, who  _knew_ just how much work Yuuri needed to do before competitions began, was practically kicking him off the ice. As if he had all the time in the world. As if he didn't have so many expectations riding on him as a silver medalist and record-holder. As if he didn't have so much to lose if  _anything_ went wrong.

But there would be no convincing Victor, not when he had that fucking "perfect coach" look on his face, as if he hadn't gone against Yakov's advice more than once, coming to a head when he decided to buy a one-way ticket to Japan. Some other day it would've made him cry, but Yuuri's rising temper pushed away any tears that may have almost made their way out and he stared angrily at Victor's resolute face and ground out a furious, "Fine," before turning and skating away from his coach, not wanting to say another word to him or even _look_ at him.

Every part of his body was tense as he stalked off the ice and into the locker rooms, and he knew that soon the adrenaline would wear off and he'd be crawling back home, moaning in absolute agony as bruises began to appear on his skin and on the back of his head. He waved those thoughts away, angrily unlacing his skates and tugging them off to unceremoniously toss them into his bag.

He kept his eyes on the floor when he saw Victor enter, and made a point of ignoring how the man sat on the bench beside him and said in calm a tone, "Look, don't worry about today. We can just start up again tomorrow when you're well-rested."

"Whatever," Yuuri spat out, tugging on his sneakers and tying them as fast as he possibly can, not wanting to give in to Victor's soothing voice. 

He spied Victor undoing his own laces and asked, "You're not leaving too, are you?!"

Victor paused and looked at Yuuri with wide-eyed confusion. "I'm taking you home, Yuuri."

"You don't have to," Yuuri said, still frowning and voice still tight with frustration as he put his coat on and hoisted his bag on his shoulder. "It doesn't make sense for both of us to waste an entire day. I'll see you at home."

Victor, his skate half-unlaced, got to his feet and said insistently as he reached for Yuuri, "What, are you kidding?  _Detka_ , it's no good if you walk home alone in such a bad mood. I can-"

Yet again he didn't listen to his reasonable self yelling at him to just shut up and not talk back, that they could have it out at home and maybe by then he'll be calm enough to just let it go and chalk it all up to a terrible fucking day. But no, he just told that voice to shut the fuck up and shot back, "I said I'll go home on my own! I don't need you hanging around me all the time!"

He watched shock and hurt make their way across Victor's face, and saw how quickly the man hid them away to maintain a closed-off expression. Victor pulled his hand away, letting it fall at his side as he looked away from Yuuri, who felt the first twinge of pain in his heart at suddenly seeing Victor so small and defeated. "I'll...see you at home then," Victor managed before sitting back down and focusing on re-tying his laces.

Yuuri, still tense with stubborn anger and disappointment, could only stand to stay there for a moment before turning on his heel and making his way out of the rink, keeping a tight grip on the strap of his duffel bag as he trudged out into the cold, away from Victor.

He walked on, not wanting to believe he was actually walking home in the middle of the day. He should've been practicing, he should've been getting over that flub.

He shouldn't have been feeling his physical pain grow with each step as the rush of adrenaline melted away and his body throbbed, reminding him of his failure.

Reminding him of his words.

He looked at the ground at the minutes passed and he got closer to their apartment building, his anger dragging itself away in defeat, leaving a painful trail to look at and contemplate as the memory Victor's hurt expression floated into the surface of his memory.

A lump rose in Yuuri's throat, and he was left with that and the ache in his body and heart as he remembered what he said to Victor. God, had he actually said such awful words to Victor, who was only ever looking out for him?

Yuuri sighed, not wanting to think about the pain flashing in blue eyes that held nothing but warmth whenever they looked at Yuuri. Hell, they couldn't even summon anger at the hurtful words Yuuri had thoughtlessly hurled at him.

He dug into his pocket for his key as he neared the building, but didn't find it. Frowning, he searched for it in his other pockets. No sign of it.

Yuuri closed his eyes and groaned softly as he remembered that his key was very likely still hanging on a hook next to the door, forgotten that morning as they headed to a practice doomed to failure.

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.

He cursed his thoughtlessness, all of it. He cursed himself for stubbornly refusing to tell Victor how tired he was, for attempting a jump that could've ended with him snapping his ankle, for snapping at Victor when they could've both walked home. Then Yuuri probably wouldn't have found himself standing in the middle of a chilly St. Petersburg street, locked out of his home and wondering what the hell he was going to do.

He quickly shook away his immediate thought, which was to call Victor and ask him to rescue him, knowing now that he had calmed down that Victor probably didn't even want to hear his voice right now. Not after Yuuri's outburst.

 _I wouldn't want to talk to me either_ , Yuuri thought, miserable and defeated as he decided to let Victor practice by himself in peace. Yuuri would have to stew in his failure outdoors, it seemed, until Victor came home in a few hours and he'd have to face him.

Sighing, Yuuri made his way to the cheapest decent restaurant he knew, one that Victor had pointed out on the night he picked Yuuri up from the airport. Funny how he thought he'd get to try it out with Victor sitting across from him, using his phone to take fifty pictures of the turkey sandwich Yuuri was currently picking at, the lump in his throat not letting him eat comfortably.

He stayed for an hour, finishing his lemonade and leaving a sad half-eaten sandwich on his plate, and tipped generously as he paid and checked his phone with the slim hope that there'd be a text.

Nothing. Just the string of heart emojis Victor had sent the day before to surprise Yuuri when he picked his phone up during a break in the middle of practice. Yuuri had smiled and given Victor a fond look from across the rink, warmth spreading across his chest when the man winked at him.

Right now Yuuri didn't think he deserved even one of those little red hearts. He was awful and deserved to be walking around in the cold, his sore muscles screaming at him for mercy.

He somehow managed to aimlessly walk to the park Makkachin loved, one that Vicchan _would_ have loved, and sat on the bench overlooking a field where he could watch a handful of people frolicking with their dogs, their lives so seemingly put together and  _perfect_ because none of them had ever fucked up and probably driven away the person who loved them with every fiber of their being.

Sitting there, silent and sore, gave him the time to painfully go over what he said and just how awful it must've been for Victor to hear Yuuri say he didn't need him. 

Of course Yuuri needed him. He was sitting at a dog park on his own and he was  _miserable._ He just wanted to go back and fix it, to just peacefully follow Victor's advice and go home together, frustrated but at least neither of them would've been hurting and Yuuri wouldn't be sitting on a bench looking like an absolute idiot.

He was tired, his body ached from head to toe, and his heart hurt. He just wanted the hours to pass so he could go home and try to forget this whole day had ever happened. Then again he wasn't that great at forgetting shit like this once it happened.

Yuuri looked at the time on his phone, surprised that he'd been out for an hour and a half. Just a few more and he could do his little walk of shame back to the apartment.

Hell, maybe Victor would toss all his stuff out into the hallway for him to find.

His throat seized at the thought and Yuuri bit his lip, willing the thought away and trying so hard not to burst into tears.

He gave a small start when his phone vibrated, and his heart raced when he saw that it was Victor calling. Was he on a break? Did he want to check on Yuuri?

Of course he did.

Yuuri hated himself for assuming Victor wouldn't want to make sure he'd gotten home alright. St. Petersburg was still a new city and even though they were close to the rink, Victor didn't want Yuuri to get lost.

He answered on the third vibration, trying to swallow the lump in his throat and calm himself down enough to at least give Victor a non-hostile answer. "Victor?"

 _"Yuuri!"_ Victor's voice did two things; it filled Yuuri with such relief that it almost made him forget his pain because  _thank God, Victor was speaking to him_ , and it confused him because it was filled with such alarm, as if Victor were terrified.  _"Oh my God, where are you?"_

There was desperation in his tone, and Yuuri could almost imagine him running an anxious hand through his hair. "I..." Yuuri could barely speak through the lump of tears that won't dislodge itself from his throat, and he hated how his voice wavered when he said, "I-I'm...at the park...I forgot my key this morning..."

There was a pause and the sound of Victor's harried breathing, then he said slowly,  _"It's on the hook...You...You haven't been home all this time?"_

Yuuri shook his head and wiped away the single tear that managed to escape. "No," he croaked. "I've been out."

He strained to listen to the muted sounds of what he assumed was Victor breathing, and he had the sinking feeling that he was listening to soft sobs.  _No, no, please don't cry, Victor_.

 _"Come home, then,"_ Victor said, his voice shaky.  _"I'm here waiting. Please be careful."_

"Alright, I'm coming," Yuuri answered softly, closing his eyes and breathing as steady as he can before hanging up.

It didn't occur to him to ask what Victor was doing in the apartment when he was supposed to be at practice. Yuuri didn't want to think about it, not when his emotional exhaustion was making him drag his feet as he made his way out of the park.

He didn't want to think about facing Victor and seeing the aftermath of his thoughtless words.

He didn't want to look into those loving eyes and see hate, resentment, disappointment, everything Yuuri feared. 

Halfway home he sniffled and took off his glasses to wipe off a smudge on the right lens, not noticing the trio walking towards him.

His shoulder bumped hard against another shoulder, and Yuuri yelped as the impact sent him flying backwards, losing his grip on his glasses when he landed on his rear, hard.

He automatically apologized in English, blurting out a stammered, "S-sorry! I didn't watch where-"

A voice above him interrupted in harsh Russian, and Yuuri felt dread settle in his stomach at the violence in the tone. His Russian was improving but he was nervous and only managed to pick up a few words like "clueless" and "shithead".

Yuuri got to his feet and attempted a tiny bow, scrambling to remember the right way to apologize.  _"I'm sorry. I didn't see where I was going. Please excuse me,_ " he said quickly, trying to shoulder past the huge guy.

He felt a hand close tight over his arm and Yuuri swore his heart stopped. The guy's grip was strong and there was no pulling out of it. He drawled out another set of words, and Yuuri recognized "wallet" and "phone".

He instinctively tried to yank his arm away, but froze when he heard the telltale crack of his glasses perishing underneath someone's foot. The second guy laughed derisively and mockingly said, "Oop."

Time seemed to stop for Yuuri there and suddenly he found himself thrust into the wall of an alley, his vision blurry and his breathing erratic as the first guy grinned at him threateningly as he clutched him by the front of his coat. 

 _"Phone and wallet. Now,_ " the guy said, blowing his foul breath right in Yuuri's face.

It was stupid. 

It would probably get him killed.

But, fuck it, Yuuri had done enough stupid things today.

What was one more?

Besides, the bastards broke his glasses.

And the guy's breath smelled like shit.

He curled his hand into a fist and remembered just how to lift his arm up, bend it as he brought it down, and concentrated all his force into slamming his elbow right in the guy's nose.

The guy howled in pain and he immediately let Yuuri go, and he slipped away as the guy doubled over in pain as blood streamed from his nostrils. The third guy, eyes wide with shock and fury, tried to block Yuuri's path, but he was at the right height and Yuuri, already seeing red, pulled his fist back and swung, not noticing the slice of pain in his knuckle as they hit the guy's teeth and sent him sprawling backwards.

Yuuri, adrenaline once again racing through his body, ran as far from them as he could, forgetting everything except the need to put as much distance between him and those three as possible. 

Everything in front of him was a blur but somehow he managed to avoid bumping into anyone else, and he couldn't see any of the bewildered looks people were aiming his way as he ran by. 

It was too much. Way, way too much. He'd yelled at his boyfriend, been locked out of his home, and now some punks had broken his glasses and tried to mug him in broad daylight.

Now he started to notice the stinging pain in his knuckle and lifted it to see that he was bleeding from a cut just above the knuckle of his middle finger.

Holy shit he'd actually cut himself on the guy's teeth.

He would've laughed if he weren't so bone tired. 

Instead he put his hand in his pocket, not wanting to scare anyone, and went on home, his heart suddenly beating  _too_ hard and making his chest ache.

_Just get home._

_Just get home, you're fine, you made it. Go home._

He saw the familiar stairs but relief refused to come.

_Good. Good, you're here._

_Victor's waiting, Victor's gonna let you in._

_Hold on for another minute, just one more._

He took the steps, trying to ignore all the painful tremors going through his body, trying to keep from crying in the middle of the fucking hallway and trying to remember how to breathe normally.

_You're at the door. Ring the bell._

He did so.

_You're safe, you're okay. You just got cut up but they didn't touch you._

Everything fell silent the moment the door opened and Yuuri caught sight of Victor's face.

The man blew out a shuddered breath of relief and his shoulders visibly sagged right before Yuuri found himself being pulled into a tight embrace, Victor pushing the door shut behind him after pulling Yuuri indoors.

"Thank God," he heard Victor whisper, and he couldn't make sense of the words for a few seconds as he tried to process that he was home.

Yes he was.

He was in his home. Victor had let him in. Victor was hugging him like he'd just come back from war or something.

"I..." Yuuri couldn't speak, his voice failing him as Victor pulled away to look at him and run a hand over his face.

Then Yuuri noticed the red rimming the delicate skin around Victor's eyes and the realization came like a punch to the gut: Victor  _had_ been crying.

Because of Yuuri.

He couldn't take it.

Yuuri dropped his bag and tore himself away from Victor and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it right before letting out the cracked sob that had been dying to burst out of his chest. He gripped the edges of the sink and turned on the cold water all the way, his breaths shallow and his chest tight with pain as he focused on the sound of the running water, gasping for breath and grabbing a hold of the pain in his body as an anchor.

Then came the sound of the doorknob turning but not giving, and a hard knock against the door. "Yuuri, open the door. Let me in," he heard Victor demand from far away.

He couldn't.

He couldn't bear that sight again. It was his fault, why was Victor hugging him, why couldn't he do  _anything_ right? 

"Yuuri, there's blood on the doorknob," Victor says, the desperation in his voice rising. "Yuuri, did something happen? Yuuri, please let me in,  _detka_."

Yuuri shook his head silently, wishing he could see, wishing he  _could_ let Victor in if only his panic weren't shaking him like a rag doll, choking him and keeping him immobile.

He felt cold travel up his arm and he managed a deep breath, enough to let him realize that he'd shoved his bloody hand beneath the cold water, washing the blood away and revealing the angry red wound.

Yuuri forced himself to keep breathing as he let go of the other edge of the sink to even out the water temperature, both of his hands shaky as he gathered water in them and splashed it onto his face, wiping it down and willing himself to keep his breaths even and steady.

He didn't know how long he stood there, only realizing that he'd turned the water off when he became aware of silence.

He glanced up at the mirror, and fuck he looked awful.

He looked down, seeing a less dramatic amount of blood pooling in the cut. 

He looked around, seeing his bathroom in his home, and let that knowledge sink in.

No one would find him here.

...Because he'd locked the door.

Yuuri remembered Victor, remembered him begging Yuuri to let him in because he was worried about the blood.

He anxiously walked to the door and cleared his throat before calling out in a tired tone, "I'm coming out."

He heard movement outside just before he unlocked the door and opened it, seeing Victor just outside.

Victor didn't hug him this time, his eyes wary and concerned, yet still bearing the signs of hurt and sadness. 

Yuuri, feeling the tears flow from his eyes, took the step and wrapped his arms around Victor's waist, sobbing into his shoulder, "I fucked up! I fucked up, I'm so sorry, Victor! Please don't hate me! I'm so sorry I said I didn't need you!"

To his relief he felt the familiar squeeze of Victor's loving arms around him, a hand burying itself in his hair as Victor soothingly said, "I could never hate you, Yuuri. God, I was so worried when I came in and I didn't find you..." He heard the ache in Victor's voice, but then the man pulled away and worriedly asked, "Why are you bleeding? What happened, Yuuri?"

Yuuri wiped at his eyes and lifted his hand up between them, and Victor took it in his as Yuuri explained in a small voice, "I...I was coming back after you called me, and...I was stupid. Some guys tried to mug me, a-and they broke my glasses. Everything was going so wrong and I couldn't  _take_ it anymore, so I...I broke one guy's nose and punched the other one in the teeth, which sort of...cut my finger open."

He glanced up at Victor and was alarmed to see that he'd covered his mouth with his shaking hand, staring at Yuuri with wide, horrified eyes as fresh tears made their way down his cheeks.

Yuuri's heart fell at the sight and he quickly said, "Victor, no! Please don't cry, I'm fine! I promise! They didn't do anything!"

But Victor only covered his eyes, gritting his teeth as a cracked sob escaped his throat and he held on to Yuuri's injured hand. Makkachin stood beside him, whimpering worriedly and licking at Yuuri's other hand as if to reassure them both. Then Victor managed to say, his voice shaking with terror, "If something had happened to you...Oh, God, Yuuri, what would I  _do_ if something happened to you?! God, I should've come back with you..."

Yuuri didn't know what to say or what to do, other than letting Victor hold his hand, which was starting to hurt. He didn't want to think of what else might've happened with those thugs. He just wanted things back to normal.

He wanted this entire day back.

Moments passed before Victor calmed down enough to lead Yuuri into the living room, sitting him down on the sofa. Makkachin quickly followed and leapt to lie down beside Yuuri, head close to his hip. Yuuri cleared his throat and asked slowly, "...What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at practice."

Victor shook his head with a soft sigh. "I didn't want to keep practicing. I tried for about an hour but I just wanted to drop everything and catch up to you. I felt so stupid letting you leave when you were so angry."

"No, I was stupid," Yuuri cut in. "You were right, I wasn't much good out there today and I shouldn't have tried that jump when I was so tired. You're my coach, and I should listen to you..." He made himself look at Victor's tearful face and said, "I'm so sorry for what I said. I was mad, and...God, there's no excuse for it. You were just trying to help..."

"I should've just come with you, but I thought I'd make things worse. You were so angry," Victor went on, looking away . "I was...not very good on the ice either. Yakov found me hiding in the bathroom, and...he told me to come home and fix things."

"W-why were you hiding in the bathroom..." Then it hit him like a load of bricks, and Yuuri stated, "...You were crying."

Victor didn't say anything but that was enough of an answer for Yuuri. He pulled his hand away and covered his eyes, his shame hitting him worse than anything those thugs might've done. " _Fuck_ , I'm such an asshole!"

"Yuuri, you're not-"

"I  _am!_ Victor, I said something really hurtful to you and...Shit, if I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut, none of this would've happened, and you wouldn't have cried and I  _hate_ making you cry and you probably wish you'd never met me-"

"That's enough," Victor said firmly, squishing Yuuri's cheeks between his hands and making him stare right at him. "I would  _never_ wish that I'd never met you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I never want to lose you,  _detka_. I came home, and I wanted to hug you and kiss you and make up with you, but when I didn't see you here..." He dropped his hands to Yuuri's shoulders, and tears glistened on the edges of his eyes as he said, "God, Yuuri, for an entire minute I thought you _left_." 

Yuuri stared at him, listening to the misery in his voice. "Victor, all my stuff is here."

"I know that," Victor exclaimed. "I just thought...You have your phone and your wallet...it'd be all you needed to buy a flight back to Japan. It's stupid, I know, but...thinking that was the worst minute of my life. I was so happy when you answered your phone, and I didn't even  _think_ to check if your key was on the hook."

Yuuri couldn't keep from tugging Victor into his arms, burying his face in the man's neck and breathing in the scent of his soap. "I'm sorry," he repeated, knowing it couldn't possibly be enough. "I'm so sorry I got angry. It wasn't your fault, and I shouldn't have yelled."

Victor's hands rubbed soothing circles across his back, and he could feel how Victor was trying to reassure himself that Yuuri was with him, that he was safe and hadn't left him. Yuuri knew he was terrified of it ever happening, and wished he hadn't brought back that insecurity with full force. "I forgive you," Victor said, kissing his ear and then his cheek and finally his lips. "But you're not stupid, and you're not a failure. You're Katsuki Yuuri, one of the best skaters out there and the love of my life. You just happened to have a very terrible day."  

"A shit day," Yuuri added, still sniffling and nuzzling at Victor's cheek in apology.

"And I'm sorry too," Victor said, running a hand through Yuuri's hair. "I should've noticed you were tired and I should've come home with you even if you were mad. I was just hurt, and..." He hugged Yuuri again and whispered into his hair, "It doesn't matter. You're safe now, and...I know you already think I'm clingy but I think I'd like to hold you like this for at least a month."

Yuuri couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as he hugged Victor back. "That doesn't sound too bad actually..."

Victor gave him a long squeeze and seemed to reluctantly pull away. "I should get the first aid kit. That cut must hurt."

Moments later Yuuri was watching Victor treat the cut. The Russian asked, "So you really fought off three thugs?"

"Just two," Yuuri answered. "I think the other guy was too worried about his friends to bother coming after me."

He treasured the little smile Victor gave him. "Badass Katsuki Yuuri. Who would've thought."

"It's not the first time I've had to do something like that," Yuuri said with a shrug. "Back in Detroit there were a couple of assholes who hung around the rink. Phichit and I tried ignoring them but they thought we had bad attitudes and wanted to teach us a lesson. I kicked one guy in the crotch and swung my duffel bag at the other guy, then I grabbed Phichit and ran. I hailed a taxi and practically tossed him in."

Victor laughed at the memory with him but sobered enough to ask, "Damn, it's a shame about your glasses. Do you have spares?"

"I do, they're in the nightstand."

"Let me get them," Victor said after wrapping a bandage around Yuuri's finger. He waited, exhaustion and relief settling in his body after such a long day, and it wasn't even 3 p.m.

Victor returned bearing his spares, the same frame and prescription he carried around because he knew he'd probably lose or break the first pair. He never expected losing them the way he actually did though. 

Yuuri let Victor slide them onto his face, and once again the world was in perfect clarity. "Better?" Victor asked.

 _Almost,_ Yuuri thought, and he leaned in to press a loving kiss to Victor's mouth, stroking his hair and reassuring them both that they were okay, in spite of everything. Yuuri pulled away with a brief, lingering brush of their lips and murmured, "Better."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING CHANGED
> 
> So, let me explain...
> 
> This little surprise chapter was born out of thinking about a paragraph in **your warm whispers [letting me drown in a pool of you]** where I mention Yuuri having a panic attack days after the near mugging. I decided to write what happened the night immediately after he and Victor make up and the attack occurring days later. 
> 
> Hooray for disordered writing xD

Yuuri had napped in Victor's arms on the couch for a good two hours that afternoon once his cut was bandaged and his other bruises looked over. He still needed sleep and was ready to gratefully lose consciousness the second he hit the mattress that night. 

Then he was sitting on the edge of the bed, Victor leaning over him and kissing him sweetly, still so overjoyed that Yuuri  _hadn't_ left, and Yuuri found himself practically vibrating with energy and wanting more.

He threaded his fingers through silver locks, needing to keep Victor close and ensure that they were going to  _stay_ fine. 

Victor slowly broke their kiss, nosing at Yuuri's forehead with a tender smile. "I have to see if Makka's water bowl is full." He brushed his lips over Yuuri's briefly before leaving the room to do just that, leaving Yuuri staring after him.

He huffed with mild impatience, biting his lip and fidgeting until the heat in his body started becoming too much to bear. 

Then Yuuri got an idea, and he acted on it before he had a chance to lose his nerve.

He pulled his clothes off quickly while Victor was busy outside, tossing them at the corner of the room where the older man wouldn't immediately see them when he came back in. Yuuri smiled with wild anticipation as he dove under the blanket, heart pounding as he heard Victor's approach.

The man smiled at him and lifted the blanket to get into the bed, but not enough that he would see Yuuri was completely naked underneath. "Decided to take your shirt off?"

Yuuri sidled close to Victor's in time for the man's hands to settle over his heated skin. Blue eyes grew wide in surprise as Yuuri softly said, "I took everything off," before leaning in to kiss Victor with fervor, his heart pounding as he relished in his success in shocking Victor.

Victor sucked in a surprised breath and he gripped Yuuri's body tighter. He mapped Yuuri's mouth with so much enthusiasm that they were both out of breath in moments. Victor's clothes practically flew off and Yuuri laughed with joy and relief at their skin touching. 

Then he hissed in pain when Victor's fingers closed around his hair, just over the tender bruised spot.

Victor immediately pulled his hand away, contrite. "Damn! I'm sorry, Yuuri."

"I'm fine," Yuuri insisted against Victor's lips before kissing him again, and he forgot about the throbbing in the back of his head in favor of the throbbing between his legs. 

He flipped onto his stomach as Victor's kisses flew over his chest, shoulder, and shoulder blades, and he found himself spreading his legs to let Victor get comfortable between them. 

Yuuri could feel his boyfriend's hard length brushing against his skin as Victor moved, kissing and licking at Yuuri's neck as he panted hungrily. Sucking Yuuri's earlobe into his mouth, Victor moaned lowly as he pressed his cock snugly between his asscheeks.

"Fuck me," Yuuri moaned softly against his pillow, rocking his hips back enticingly, suddenly aching to be filled even though he had to get back on the ice tomorrow to make up for the missed day.

Victor groaned into Yuuri's ear as if in agony. "Yuuri, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Yuuri urged, giving him an entreating look over his shoulder. 

"No, Yuuri," his coach said with finality, and Yuuri knew there was no arguing with him. "You have to skate tomorrow." Then came sudden cold as Victor drew his body away from Yuuri's, and he heard the familiar sound of a bottle cap opening. "I'll take care of you,  _miliy_ ," Victor said in gentle tones, and Yuuri felt it like a caress, making him shiver.

He gasped at the sensation of Victor's lube slick fingers teasing at his rim, and he spread his legs further to encourage Victor to sink his fingers inside. "Oh, God...Please..."

Victor complied, slowly putting one finger in with some resistance as Yuuri tensed with mild discomfort. He tried to relax, letting out soft sounds of contentment as Victor stroked his lower back soothingly in promise. Two fingers soon moved inside him, and Yuuri had his cheek pressed against the pillow he clutched, panting at every teasing brush against his prostate and the wet kisses Victor pressed to his face and neck. 

He moaned loudly as Victor began to directly stimulate his prostate with three fingers, his body tight and hot with anticipation as every thrust drove his hips against the mattress, the friction driving him closer to release.

Victor's other hand curved beneath Yuuri's jaw to turn his face to kiss him messily as his hand kept fucking into Yuuri. The younger skater could only pant into Victor's mouth as heat and pleasure raced across his spine, and he shuddered with exhilaration when he felt Victor's cock thrust against the back of his thigh.

Yuuri's hips stuttered as Victor's fingers and the friction against the sheets drove him to an orgasm that had him gasping in shock and bliss, clutching the pillow tightly as he threw his head back and rode the high to its gentle end. He heard Victor's choked groan and felt him cum against Yuuri's inner thigh, slumping bonelessly against him for a brief second before catching himself and keeping his weight off of Yuuri as he carefully took his fingers out.

Victor rolled off of him and onto his back, panting as heavily as Yuuri was as he lay limply on the dreaded wet spot but found that he was too fucking exhausted to care. 

Then he wriggled in discomfort after a minute. Alright, he wasn't  _that_ exhausted.

Yuuri rolled over to drape an arm and leg over Victor, which was only better by a whopping five percent because they were both sticky with sweat and cum. 

"Wait, Yuuri," Victor whined halfheartedly, his eyelids droopy with sleepiness. "We need to clean up."

"Grab tissues," Yuuri muttered against Victor's shoulder, pressing tired kisses on the hot skin.

Victor obeyed, reaching over to get enough tissues for a cursory clean up that would have them complaining in the morning. He laughed softly, "How the hell are we going to wake up early after that?"

Yuuri reached over with a tired groan to grab their phones and set them a half hour earlier before placing them back on the nightstand and settling his head right where it was on Victor's chest. 

He fell asleep in moments as Victor played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Yuuri rightly predicted they'd wake up stuck to each other, and rush through breakfast and a quick shower. He had no way of predicting how he'd laugh as he and Victor raced each other back to the apartment (Yuuri swore Victor cheated, taking a head start), or how they'd smile at each other at the rink fondly as Yuuri took it a bit easier on the ice.

Everything was fine.

-

Everything was decidedly _not_  fine the night before their day off.

Yuuri was almost sure that what triggered everything was taking the bandage off his finger and looking too closely at the tiny, newly-formed scab.

He started to remember the event a little too vividly, remembering just how close the three guys had been and how the first one looked ready to hurt him if he didn't hand over his valuables.

Soon his mind filled with thoughts of all the different ways things could have gone horribly wrong: his limbs would have decided to just  _not_ work, his arm flailing uselessly before he could manage to elbow the guy in the face. Him beaten and bloody in that alley if he reacted  _too_ slowly. The terror of them possibly noticing the ring he wore  _Not my ring not my ring don't take my ring._

It got worse, like sinking deeper into quicksand as he struggled and struggled because what else could he do? If he'd stayed still that day he would have-

It got so much worse because he started imagining Victor calling him at the dog park and telling him not to bother coming back. That they were finished and Victor never wanted to see him again. Victor telling him he'd been a waste of time all along and to retire for good. Victor refusing to forgive him. Victor taking his ring off and throwing it away like it was trash, and he'd been stupid to wear it on his finger for so long.

It was so hard to breathe and he didn't know just  _how_ long he'd been like this. Yuuri just knew he was in the bathroom for a very long while, leaning over the sink as he let the water run cold. 

Soft whimpers and scratches against the door.

"Shh, shh, shh, Makka..." Then soft words spoken in Russian.

Yuuri clung to the sound, a lifeline. He shut the water off and silently begged,  _Say something. Say something else, please._

"Victor," he ground out, knuckles turning white as he clutched the edges of the sink.

"Yuuri?" came the reply, desperate and worried. "I'm right here,  _detka_. What can I do?"

"Just..." He swallowed and pressed his forehead against the mirror, forcing himself to relax his grip. "Keep talking. Anything."

He stayed locked in a little while longer, listening to Victor talk about Yakov's ideas and how Mila was  _still_ texting Sara in the middle of practice, frequently drawing his ire. 

Yuuri didn't miss the nervous edge to his voice, and while his breaths were coming easier his heart still hurt. 

He was dizzy when he finally emerged, seeing Victor sitting crosslegged against the wall next to the door and Makkachin lying right in front of him. They both stood when he appeared, Victor holding back from touching him until Yuuri came to him himself, pressing his face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he managed before letting his tears out.

It was hours later that Yuuri began to feel some semblance of calm, mostly because his head was pounding and his eyes ached. He lay against Victor, hand clenching the dark shirt he wore to bed, and Makkachin snored softly behind him. 

Victor's fingers drew soothing lines over his shoulder, his other hand lying over Yuuri's clenched fist. It  _almost_ felt safe, but the doubts were still there like an unwanted guest that just takes everything you have while stepping all over you.

"My head hurts," Yuuri croaked into the quiet, throat totally parched. It's no wonder with all the crying he'd been doing. 

Victor moves carefully, trying not to jostle him and Makkachin as he got out from under the covers. "I'll go get you some water and aspirin."

Soon he returned with a full glass and a pill, sitting on the edge of the bed and absentmindedly scratching behind Makkachin's ears as Yuuri drank.

"Can I do anything else?" Victor asked, looking at Yuuri with concern. "Do you feel safe yet?"

The questions hurt, but in a good way, like a shot straight to his heart. What else could Victor do that he hadn't already done? Yuuri exhaled shakily, too tired to think about a cohesive answer. "I think..." 

That was just it. He couldn't think, his body and mind drained from too much thinking and panic.  _Did_ he feel safe?

Moments passed before Victor nodded, giving him an understanding smile. "That's fine."

Yuuri wordlessly patted the spot Victor had vacated, and Victor settled back in beneath the blanket beside him. Yuuri quickly wrapped an arm around the man's waist and wound his leg around his, trying to ignore the tears prickling behind his eyelids in favor of the slow and steady strokes of Victor's hand over his back.

He fell asleep somehow, tears staining Victor's shirt.

-

Yuuri felt silly the next morning, but then again when didn't he?

He felt safe waking up still wrapped in Victor's arms. He straightened slowly, those arms falling to the side and Victor sighing softly. Yuuri peered down and saw the ring on Victor's finger, still there after all these months. Their lucky charm. Their engagement. Their bond.

And there it'd stay if either of them had anything to say about it.

He kissed Victor's cheek, easing him into wakefulness, and he got to watch those blue eyes brighten with recognition.

A little while later Yuuri sat with Victor at the table, staring into his cereal as he jiggled his knee. The urge was sudden and he needed to address it soon or else it'd bother him. "I need to call my parents."

Victor looked up from his coffee and nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. It should already be afternoon in Japan."

Yuuri bit his lip, considering the spoonful still halfway to his mouth before putting it back. "Not about...what happened a few days ago. I don't want to tell them that over the phone, it's just..." Moments later the answer was there, plain as day. "I miss them."

Obviously Yuuri missed everyone in Hasetsu every single day, ever since he began living abroad, but this felt different. He suddenly wanted them near just to know that some of the people who loved him most in the world were only a room away. His mother and Mari always knew what he needed even before he did, and his father's support was constant, even if his mind seemed to be in the clouds most of the time. 

"Of course you do," Victor said quietly, reaching over to take Yuuri's hand in his. "...I do too."

Victor's smile was fond with remembrance, and Yuuri felt it in his heart. In Hasetsu they were  _both_ surrounded by people who offered their own brand of quiet support and open acceptance. Yuuri's parents knew of his anxieties, and they had let Victor be himself long before Yuuri had told him that it was alright to be so.

Sometimes the way their lives were so intertwined seemed frightening and intense, but right now it felt perfect and wonderful to have Victor be such an important part of Yuuri's world, as chaotic as it could be.

Later on he sat on the couch, Victor's head resting on his lap as he stroked his soft hair with one hand and held his phone in the other, putting it on speaker as it rang.

Someone picked up on the fourth ring, and Yuuri's mother's voice filled the apartment, " _Hello, Yuuri!"_

Makkachin barked excitedly at the sound of her voice, and Victor beamed up at Yuuri, who smiled back before answering, "Hi, Mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my life.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: **aeriamamaduck**


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